


Lights in the Blue Yonder

by theMiragePrismatic



Series: Walk Towards the Seventh Dawn [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Gen, Likely to be more specifically AU, Multiple Warriors of Light, short story collection, tries to be vague about the exact situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMiragePrismatic/pseuds/theMiragePrismatic
Summary: The realm of Eorzea has many woes but with such prestigious defenders as the Warriors of Light, Luminaries, Primalsbane, Champions of Eorzea, the burdens are eased. But the weight of a realm is a heavy one and a burden shared is a burden lightened. A Short Story collection exploring the Lord Commander, Ser Aymeric's interactions with the Champions of Eorzea.Story 1 - Right or EasyStory 2 - At the EdgeStory 3 - Moral CourageStory 4 - Vested in FortuneStory 5 - For Peace





	1. Post-Vault: Right or Easy

**Author's Note:**

> As I am embarking upon several novels-length project to write about a party of Warriors of Light I felt the need to update this collection. You do not need to understand the mythos/lore of that fic to appreciate this collection however, I try to keep this vague.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Vault - the leader of the eight Warriors of Light assures Aymeric of the course.
> 
> Posted - October 10, 2016

Aymeric awoke to darkness and lances of spearing pain, even with the healing from the Healers amongst the Warriors of Light. Turning, he was relieved to see Haurchefant - heavily bandaged - resting the neighboring bed and nearly jumped at the creak of a chair.

A chuckle resounded through the dark, before a warm cloth rested on his head. “At peace, Aymeric - you are safe now.”

He couldn't help breathing her name. The Champion Ascendant, leader of the warriors of Light, Champions of Eorzea - looked odd out of armor. "You should be resting!”

“I am,”

Aymeric raised himself on his elbow, wincing. “In a chair?”

“Lie _down,_ stubborn oaf!” she ordered.

Hastily he obeyed and there was movement before a small bowl of soup and fruit was set on a tray and on his lap. “Eat,”

“That requires me to sit up,” he couldn’t help but quip and chuckled dryly to himself at her unimpressed stare.

There was silence, though a comfortable one before a pressing question burned on his tongue.

“You were right.”

Her eyes flicked to him, brows furrowed in concern. “You were right - of course." He fair shuddered with the truth of it, burning with shame. "Archbishops before him have perpetuated this lie - a compelling narrative he called it. And his words were so practiced, my words left me.”

“I know,”

“...The Echo,”

The Champion Ascendant leaned back in the cushioned that had been provided, tilting her head back as if surveying the heavens but there was only the pattern ceiling. “Your father’s words only serve to further his own delusions. In our fleeting lives, mortals are wont to embrace security and familiarity over uncomfortable truths. Ever since we discovered the truth, I have wondered how united Dravania and Ishgard would look if such a betrayal had not occurred - I mourn it. But I have discovered, that if people are reassured, secured in the knowledge that they will have guidance to change, they will strive - if stumble - towards that path.”

“... It does me good to know you still approve of the course - regardless of my bullheaded, stubborn actions."

“Right does not mean easy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I desire to have a Warrior of Light character to flesh out, I kept it vague here. May not be so vague in future chapters.


	2. At the Edge (Post-DRK Quest 'Our End')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the Events of 'Our End', the lvl 50. Dark Knight Quest at Whitebrim Front  
> Posted December 24, 2016

Lord Drillemont looks stern but Aymeric can see the worry in his face. The silence draws out, the weight of conversation heavy on their minds.

"I see..." Aymeric stood, striding towards the window. The Dark Knights were not unknown to him - he was of good intent and morals but his good will did not always trickle down to those under his command. He loathed that such things had to be done... but for the safety of the people even those of the Brume… Ishgard should be a place of safety for all. The Dravanians induce enough fear.

What did it portend that a Warrior of Light would become a Dark Knight?

Lord Drillemont waited nervously. "I fear that Master Miles is not the only one suffering the burden Eorzea places on them,"

Aymeric nodded. "And they are divided between Ishgard and lower Eorzea. However, they have come to support him."

* * *

Hydaen let his head rest on his shield-sister's stomach, Kreszenta singing a low melody above him.

Even Suzume was here - being Au Ra she was glamoured and masked but here all the same. He'd terrified all of them, it seemed and they piled together. He'd almost forgotten.... They were together in this.

They were eight made one but not alone. O'hyasru strummed her harp, Vanava's healing magic folding over the group like a blanket. Keltmyrgan was a solid presence and he chuckled at their long-ago bet that the other couldn't wield the others arms. And now he was a Paladin and he was a Ravager... perhaps it was that that made the Soul of the Dark Knight burn so harshly.

Nathalos' fire flickered on the candles, dancing like fireflies. The sight relaxed him and Isarette hummed, along with O'hyasru's harp.

"Full glad I am that you are not a Berserker," Kreszenta muttered, her fingers raking through his hair relaxing him and he drowsily hummed in agreement. Ala Mhigo's Berserkers swung hammers bigger than Ravager axes and Berserk was their default state of being (in battle) Probably why their club and hammerwielding Enforcers were a lot more common.

"Dramatist," Keltmyrgan grumbled. "There's eight of us,"

Hydaen only chuckled weakly.

There was a knock on the door, making the group tense and Suzume hastily checked her glamour as Kreszenta carefully wriggled from her spot and Hydaen scowled at the loss.

"It's Aymeric," she explained and they barely caught a glimpse of the commander before she hustled him down the corridor, leaving the others casting speaking looks.

* * *

 

"Kreza, there's no need to look so grave,"

The Champion Ascendant relaxed a fraction and Aymeric folded his hands together. "I am aware of the Dark Knights and what they do." When Kreszenta only blinked in astonishment, he continued. " 'Bright and Dark cannot exist alone. Without the bright, the dark has no purpose. No relief from the glare of moral excess or glaring light.' It... it is words my mentor said to me. I take it to heart. Without them, I could not defend Ishgard from within as well without. The people of Whitebrim only know that Hydaen was fighting his demons this day but they will not share stories of his personal trials."

She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Ser Aymeric."

"You have done much for us," he said. "The debt...is nigh impossible to repay but I mean to try. And this brings me to a concern - that your mental health is not at its best,"

Kreszenta blinked at him speechless. "You...noticed?"

It was all he could do to not stare in horror, taking him back to that day before the Battle of the Steps of Faith - when she seemed about to snap under the pressure. Did no one notice the mortals behind the legends? Besides, Isarette Fontaine, the Azure Dragoon, Luminary of the Frost, he only knew the others in passing.

"If Hydaen feels this way, I have no doubt that it affects you all."

Kreszenta paused but then a look of anger twisted her features. "How ominous it must seem that a Warrior of Light become a Dark Knight,"

He frowned; it was rare for that epithet to come up; they preferred 'Champions of Eorzea' which at least tied them to a cause instead of lofty standards. "How far have you been pushed by the cries of a realm forever in pain or in need?"

Instead she laughed bitterly, turning to leave. "Trying to be sympathetic again?"

He stepped forward quickly, gripping her shoulder. "Kreza, please."

Kreza blew out a long frustrated breath. "Your nation is a constant strain to my patience ."

"Am I?"

Her gaze shifted to him and she just looked at him for a long moment- but she had nothing on Estinien's long silences. "No," she said a last with a tiny smile. "Not at all,"

He let himself smile true and was pleased to find it was infectious.

"Kreza, let me help you and yours. The size of your command makes it no less important."

She hesitated. 

“You have done so much,” he pressed.

Aymeric almost froze up when she thumped in his shoulder but relaxed, pulling the Champion Ascendant into his chest, feeling faint tremors. Her breath hitched, fingers tangling in the thick fabric of his robes.

“How foolish… how foolish of them to heap on their joys and sorrows upon a few - and then - when we break they will - “

“You won’t. Not when you have others to help bear the burden."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with this as it seems to take away from the character who's actually hurting but a revised chapter is in progress.


	3. Moral Courage (Post-DRK Quest 'Our End')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aymeric attempts to reach out to the Luminary he is least familiar with. Follows immediately after 'At the Edge'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hydaen's appearance is modeled off the 'CGI Midlander'.  
> Ravager - Warrior/Marauder Mastery

Aymeric carefully strolled onto the parapet of Whitebrim Front, squinting slightly against the swirl of wind and light snowflakes, approaching a lone figure in the center of the battlements. The Luminary of the Ember didn't give any indication he had seen or heard Aymeric's approach and stared stoically into the distance seemingly unaffected by the cold. The Durandaire knights had respectfully - or fearfully - given the Hyur Ravager plenty of space to brood.

Aymeric had not had a great deal of contact with him - of the four Luminaries in Ishgard, he primarily spoke to Kreszenta, their leader and Isarette, the Luminary of the Frost and second Azure Dragoon. He'd even spoken to their healer - the lalafell, Vanava Nava - more often than he'd spoken to Hydaen, who always loomed in the rear of gatherings. Now, Hydaen stood perfectly still with his hands folded over the butt of his axe, the head of it on the parapet - more assuring than the presence of a greatsword he'd recently acquired.

Aymeric resigned himself to also staring into the snowy highlands. He was well aware of Hydaen's criticisms of Ishgard and they were all valid ones. the Brume, the Inquisition, the Temple Knights.

Haurchefant often rambled about it - the effusive Knight often tried to coax Hydaen into 'using his words'. Kreszenta, Isarette and Vanava however were accustomed to his stoic silences.

Hydaen, he knew, was an excellent warrior. In the team formation, he was the defender, the forward - nothing got past him to his sister- and brothers-in-arms without being grievously maimed first - at the very least - and that philosophy permeated his every action.

 _"Hydaen is different in combat,"_ Kreszenta had said. _"I know people usually say he's stoic or handsome or brave or reckless or… " she waved. “but really he's just looking out for us. Sometimes, he forgets that we need to look out for him too,"_

His Temple Knights respected Isarette, Kreszenta and Vanava - she was a strict and fierce little healer - but they feared Hydaen like nothing else. But he doubt they knew how much they should fear. Condoning them - the existence of the Dark Knights - should rightly have Aymeric questioning himself. But he could not police the actions of the Knightly Order himself. And if he could not trust a Warrior of Light…

"Lord Commander," Hydaen's sudden speech almost startled him, the slow drawl inquiring. "What brings you here to stare into empty snow with me?"

Well, it appeared that underneath the stoic facade, he had a sarcastic side. Wonderful.

"Inquiring after your well being."

Not taking his eyes off 'the view', Hydaen tilted his head slightly, watching him through light blue eyes tinged with amber. What did he see? Hydaen rarely spoke- he was the stoic one, though his sisters-in-arms seemed capable of translating his stoic silences - or expressions - as if he spoke full sentences. Was this why he was 'of the Embers' and not 'the Flame'? He didn't flare up. He did not appear reckless, he did not snap at people - he just stared. Unnervingly. Waiting, patiently until one trod carelessly over the coals.

Aymeric tried not to reflexive step back under the stare. The Hyur’s smile was a little frightening though his expression warmed. He did not speak however, and turned his eyes back to snow covered landscape.

Aymeric cleared his throat. "I did not think the others would let you out of their sight."

"They haven't."

Aymeric curiously looked around but saw no signs of any of his seven teammates. Each of them had a designated partner, he knew though they were jumbled up since they were currently split into two teams between Ishgard and Limsa Lominsa. The parapet trembled faintly, piquing his interest but no... not only had the stationed knights vacated the immediate area, the wind was growing stronger, the air chillier and he did not see any other Champions of Eorzea.

But then, they had a number of skills he wasn't privy to. Hydaen's smirk deepened. Well, if he wanted to keep it himself that was fine. For all he knew, Isarette was probably looming on distant tower - she abused the dragoon jump as much as any Ishgardian.

"What did you find?" he asked.

Hydaen's smirk slipped, reverting to his stoic mask, speaking to the wind. His voice was slow, thoughtful. "Mortals... can be kind. Or cruel. But to presume one is the first without due cause gives them ample excuse to be the second."

That... Didn't answer his question at all but Aymeric restrained the need to prod further; Hydaen appeared to be thinking.

"The Fury does not always watch." he continued. "Onto us the Twelve have given us the charge of holding our fellows to account.... No one is unimpeachable."

The Trial by Combat against the Heavensward. Hydaen was still sore about that. He didn't blame him.

"We are all wrong sometime. Do not let them hide behind the good reputation of their post - hold them to it and to their oath."

That was more words than he had ever heard the stoic Hyur utter. But he had a slow careful way of speaking almost accusing, steady that made one want to lean in and listen. The words sank slowly as if thoughtfully burning through firewood; Aymeric mulled over his words. He looked to Azeyma the Warden, didn’t he? Goddess of the Astral Fire, Protection, Justice, Truth and Inquiry, the Keeper of the Sun.

"Why did you become a Knight, Ser Aymeric?"

The rote reply popped into his mind at once.

_We are the knights of the Holy See. To be the swords and shields of Ishgard against the horde of the dreadwyrm Nidhogg. We have stood forth to defend the Holy See and her interests, protectors of Ishgard and her people, in the Name of the Fury._

Hardly a suitable response. He could already see Hydaen's unimpressed stare. 

Haurchefant had a creed. A creed Aymeric believe in as well.  _A knight lives to serve. To protect. To sacrifice. To aid those in need. There is no greater calling._

"To make their lives better." His helpless frustrations bubbled into that single sentence. "To help Ishgard. All of Ishgard. They can judge you in the knighthood my father - Elouan - said but they cannot stop you. And despite the 'lowborn/highborn' nonsense, I am here and yet the very knights under my command would use their authority for selfish ends."

Hydaen tilted his head towards the sky, almost thoughtful. "I did ... severely maim some of your Knights."

Aymeric went very still and took a slow breath.

Several weeks past, a dozen Temple Knights had been found near death. Attacked during the night, en route to the Tribunal. It seemed impossible that no one had seen _anything_ or heard anything but only the piercing shriek of a maidservant had alerted them to the horror the following morning. Their chainmail shattered, blood chilled - ribs exposed in some cases. The survivors would not speak - could barely - and the Inquisition had decreed it was voidsent. It seemed a radical jump to him but it had provided ample reason to fortify the wards.

Kreszenta had been helping in the investigation especially when more knights had been accosted in following nights. Their behavior however had become absolutely saintly afterwards...

This... Hydaen's new mantle as a Dark Knight had fermented new suspicions. And now...

"You didn't tell them. Your sisters and brothers."

"No." he agreed. "Not at first."

That explained their pique. "I see." Kreszenta hadn't known. And when she did... By the Fury, no wonder she'd hustled him away from her team. Were they prepared to go _war_ against the might of a nation? Honestly, he would not be surprised if they were. Or the high possibility they would emerge the victors. Could they? ... It would be better for everyone if that question went unanswered.

A stilted silence fell, Hydaen's gaze turning harder, his unprotected hands clenching against the axe handle. More patient now that he knew Hydaen was willing to speak, Aymeric waited.

"I - I thought..." he paused, glaring at the grounds below. "I thought Ishgard was taking them from me."

If there were any who doubted the depths of their bond, Aymeric certainly wasn't one of them. They defied death together, slew primals, faced the might of the Garlean Empire, defended the Steps of Faith from Vishap. _They who shed their blood with me, shall be my kindred, my brothers and sisters._ When he visited them briefly in the medical tents after the Steps of Faith, they'd been bickering, worrying and teasing in the way comrades and friends were wont to do in between complaining at their healers.

Isarette was the second Azure Dragoon, often seen with the Knights Dragoon. Kreszenta had become a familiar figure around the Congregation; Vanava however, stuck closely to Hydaen, growing more and more melancholy of late, Hydaen's absent like a hole. He remembered the three of them in conference so low he couldn't make it out. Well, this explained many mysteries. He must've been pulling away from Vanava.

They'd taken Hydaen off at one point - to go adventuring he presumed - and though they came back when the city was in crisis, Hydaen had seemed better.

"I trust you now realize how ridiculous that is?"

Hydaen sighed and nodded, a smile around his eyes.

"We could borrow them at best. And I do cherish their company but they _worry_ about you."

"I see they seem to think you're the confidante now,"

Aymeric shot him a look, honestly fearing for his life a little but Hydaen look a great more relaxed than when he first started to stand here. "They provide good counsel," he said diplomatically. He nodded and silence fell again.

He could challenge Estinien for 'Most Stoic'. The silence was more peaceful, less tense. There was a certain peace in this; nothing but the silent winter landscape and one's thoughts.

"What were their crimes?" he asked.

Hydaen stared him and did not speak. He...did not know how to translate Hydaen's silence. Estinien's - if course but not Hydaen's. He... was just going to keep staring at him - oh.

"Everything you say will be kept in confidence."

"No one should be above the law." He was annoyed; remembering the Trial by Combat against Grinnaux and Paulecraine no doubt.

"What if the law is wrong?"

Hydaen's smile was almost invisible, sardonic. "You trust that I milled your knights because they did something wrong? I could have murdered them for my own amusement."

Milled? Oh, killed? Aymeric verbally parried with the ridiculous High Houses on a regular basis but he had never been consistently confused over the course of a single conversation. What was Hydaen's aim?

"That isn't in your philosophy." He nodded to his axe. "During the Trial you had your partner to defend. You used dual sabers to outmaneuver your opponents, forgoing the axe because Grinnaux had an axe. You placed yourself in front. You were deaf to their taunts because you knew your purpose; to defend your friends. That is your role - what you live by."

Hydan never smiled without being menacing, did he? "I had my doubts about you. I see I was wrong."

Was this a test? "Their crime?"  
  
"It was full dark. They accosted a woman in the Brume and her granddaughter. When the granddaughter spoke out against the unfair treatment, the knights took her away. There could only be two places. One being, the Congregation but being an honorable one, I knew you would not suffer such reprehensible deeds under your roof - "

Aymeric clenched his hands, his bones creaking from the force of his rage.

"So I gave chase through the quiet, desolate Pillars and into the Tribunal."

And left a trail of bodies in his wake. For weeks, it was as if a harbinger of vengeance razed through Ishgard's Temple Knights, driving the investigators into a rage as they hit dead end after dead end. A voidsent sent to plague them, they said. A mage of the fell arts. A rogue knight.

Lord Drillemont likely hadn't a clue that Hydaen's 'personal demon' problem involved the maiming of several Temple Knights. Most of the knights that first night had had infractions against them- though punishing the highborn was a trying task, involving maneuvering around politics. Aymeric knew of the Dark Knights but only in the abstract. And now one stood before him. Freely admitting to his crimes.

And yet the crimes of those he stopped... surely it was only their just rewards, for whatever heinous plans they had had in mind for the maid.

He knew of that knight, from the first night, found in the Tribunal, curled into a corner and whimpering - Pheaurault de Claucegois. Numerous reports of misconduct, disciplinary action. Had he not resigned from active duty on account ‘voidsent inflicted injuries’, Aymeric might have been tempted to dispatch him on a dragon patrol.

"Are you asking me to arrest you?"

"I did assault and grievously injure your knights."

But you did not kill them. "I feel no attachment to such disgraces." he said coldly. "If I could manage it, they would have been dishonorably discharged and thoroughly disgraced."

"So... Why are you not arresting me?"

Halone forfend, was he trying to be arrested? Arresting a Warrior of Light was the height of folly - as Ul’Dah had proven - and Hydaen was the most honorable and chivalric individual he knew. 

"You choose between the legally right and the morally right." he said firmly. "In this, the law is wrong - it failed to protect those harmed. They are not unimpeachable." Unlike the Heavensward, they are not all but immune to justice. "They were harming the people of Ishgard and no matter their standing in our society, they  _deserve_ protection within their own walls!"

Hydaen nodded, clearly satisfied with his answer. "Good. Neither I am."

"...beg pardon?"

"I am not unimpeachable."

Aymeric chuckled. "I agree that the realm gives you and yours a great deal of leeway but I would think it's for good reason. With your deeds, people would be quite distressed to think ill of you."

"I rather like being held accountable. Reminds me I'm mortal, equal to all."

"Unfortunately," he sighed. "We are not all equal."

"So you agree I should be arrested."

Aymeric threw up his arms, to Hydaen's genuine grin. It completely _transformed_ his face from brooding, to alight with boyish mischief. And -

"Who goes there?" Aymeric looked around sharply, hearing the scraping of a sword on stone and giggles.

"No one important," Hydaen waved it off.

The ensuing sounds suggested like someone was offended by his remark.

Aymeric elected to ignore them, fixating his gaze on Hydaen. "I rather think your comrades are very good at holding you to account,”

Hydaen’s wince broke through his stoic facade, conforming his suspicions.

"And yes - it would have been immensely preferable if you'd  _told_ someone sooner than now. And brought your concerns to me after your initial intervention. It is passed now but I hope this is a stout lesson for the future."

... Considering the whole 'fighting himself at Whitebrim Front', it was possible that there was  _far_ more to it than Hydaen was willing to tell him. He supposed he could consider it a miracle he had been so forthcoming. Was it guilt? No... it was knowing the consequences and being prepared for them. Studying Hydaen's face and finding it much less stoic than he originally thought, Hydaen looked amused.

"Yes, Lord Commander."  
  
"However, if you insist," Aymeric said ignoring the audible sniggers - how did they do that? - "You can help me with disciplinary actions amongst the Temple Knights. The Fury knows I've enough complaints about you 'not doing anything to benefit Ishgard'."

Hydaen turned serious again. "I help in the Brume. And the Manufactory,"

The highborn Ishgardians had been complaining about precisely that. "And please continue to do so. The Knights fear you as it is - "

"They do?" He looked honestly perplexed. "Why?"

Aymeric raised an eyebrow at him. "Perhaps it is the way you loom in the background, looking like a harbinger of judgment with eyes said 'to look in the gates of the seven hells'. They say you turn people to ash with a look."

"It's not with a look. It's fine control of heat and aether."

Aymeric stared at him. Hydaen stared back. "I ... did not expect that to be true."

"And it's not ‘into ash’ either. More like painfully scorched.”

... He wasn't stoic at all, was he? "To review - thank you for your service to Ishgard, no I am not arresting you, yes, you will have the insisted upon disciplinary action - "

"What _is_ disciplinary action here?"

He took on his Commander’s voice, ignoring him. " - and you will be helping with the disciplinary actions of the Temple Knights.”

Hydaen looked very amused but nodded.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Maybe you would like to stop standing in the wind," He made a gesture towards the door to the inner sanctum. "And come take a meal?”

Hydaen picked up his axe, replacing it on his back, his footsteps audible as he followed.

“... Is there something else?” He didn’t feel as if the situation was totally resolved but perhaps he’d gained an ally in keep order in the Congregation. Kreszenta, Vanava, Isarette and Hydaen were wards of House Fortemps and considered citizens of Ishgard in the eyes of the law.

“What do you know about the Au Ra?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit note: 2/21/2017  
> Whoops, I should mention: 1) I break canon lore a lot.  
> 2) I headcanon that Aymeric had a stepfather name Elouan whom his mother married to avoid nasty rumors. Unfortunately, his parents are dead so...


	4. Vested in Fortune (the Shiva Debacle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chagrinned at being unable to be present as the Champions of Eorzea, Primalsbane sally forth to defend Ishgard from the Primal Shiva, Aymeric puts his heartfelt thanks in letter form instead.
> 
> Originally posted as 'Sincerity' on October 13, 2016  
> Dramatically rewritten and posted on: 2/3/2017

Suzume felt the tinges of warning in the aether, ghosts, echoes and wrapped her glamour tightly around herself, shrouded in her robes of blue and white blending into the snow.  
  
But of course, her partner, the Elezen Nathalos noticed and turned too look, grumbling at his staff. "Bells? What's wrong?"  
  
The Coerthan chill almost crawled through her robes but that wasn't the only thing making the Raen Au Ra shiver. "Ah, it's just cold,"  
  
"Nonsense," O'hyasru - wearing a special cold weather archer's gown - flit around them, the others having gone head. "Do you hear it?"  
  
"No," Hydaen - the defender of the team - was the first Warrior of Light, Suzume had ever met. He had a comforting presence - like a bonfire.  
  
"Whispers,"  
  
"... You're wearing your glamour."  
  
The charm was set so those who knew could see her real face but leave it to Hydaen to notice. Nathalos looked chastised.  
  
"Yes...there's....something here. Warning,"  
  
"A warning for who?"  
  
She stared down at her gloved hand, uneasy. "...Me,"  
  
The archer, black mage and ravager exchanged speaking looks. "We could leave," O'hyasru scanned the landscape for the other half of the team, spotting them by Snowcloak.  
  
"What?! Nonono - the whole realm could be threatened!"  
  
"Alright, alright," Hydaen gestured for her arm and a pulse of red aether traveled up her arm settling into a brand - Protection of Fire. "Feel better?"

"Much. My thanks,"  
  
He nodded, eyes softening and patted her head.  
  
Nathalos pointed at O'hyasru. "You're abusing his spell to keep warm,"  
  
“Oya’s useless when she's cold."

“Yes, I am."

“You lot alright?” Keltmyrgan, their Paladin, cast them an appraising look at their approach.

“Of course!”

Their leader, the Highlander monk Kreszenta, swept her gaze over the party, sizing them up and nodded. With her brown skin and black temple cyclas and sabatons, she stood out against the white and blueish snowy landscape. “Right. I don't need to give you directions,”

Vanava piped up. “But we like your missions briefings!”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’re going in blind. All we know is that the element is ice. Isarette can counter a little but Nathalos, Hydaen - I want it warm as Thanalan.”

“Don't make it too hot.” Vanava muttered. "I heal over time, Bells - you lighten the damage. How's your studies coming?"

"Very good. Hydaen gave me firebrand," She waved her arm. "So I have better range,"

"Suzu, Vana," Kreszenta nodded at the two healers. "Keep eyes out. I have an odd feeling,”

“Spells? Ow!” Nathalos rubbed his arm, edging away from Vanava and her cane.

“If I cast too early, they’ll fade too fast!”

“Luminaries,” the First Commander Lucia attracted their attention, clad in shining armor. “The Scions should be returning from opening the aetheryte any moment. Are your preparations complete?"  
  
"As complete as they can be," Kreszenta assured her; Isarette was twirling her mystic lance in the background testing the aetheric flow.

"I wish you the best of luck." Lucia said. "And I bear a message - the Lord Commander regrets deeply that he cannot be here in person and asks that I read to you this missive,” Lucia unfolded a parchment with and cleared her throat, voice strong and clear.

> _“Ishgard faces an unprecedented threat. Yet in our time of need it is not her knights who stand poised to defend her but you, the Champions of Eorzea, - eight adventurers whom I’ve grown to respect not simply for their reputation but for their compassion, conviction and enviable patience,”_

They drew up as she read - taller, prouder, spurred by the Commander’s voice.

> _"Your deeds this day shall not be forgotten. Where others would flee, you choose to remain. Where others would falter, you rise to the challenge. Where others would hoard their gifts, you wield yours for the benefit of many. May Halone vest you all with fortune and see you safely home."_

* * *

Aymeric pinched his nose and took a deep breath as he reached for the cup of steaming tea and took a sip, ignoring the burn on his tongue and the flat taste. The Champions of Eorzea, Primalsbane were preparing to fight Shiva. He had been called away from Snowcloak to his frustration. He heard the tales, the rumors. It was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself dressing down and slipping out to listen to the bards and minstrels. But seeing them in the flesh…

And he was here. In the Congregation in Ishgard debating with idiots.  
  
He had heard the tales but they were fighting for his city, his people. He felt as if - for the duration - they were  _his_ knights, sent on a near-impossible, surely suicidal mission.  The people of Ishgard were well versed in dragon threats but not so with primals. It was beyond their ken. He'd grown fond of their captain over the past two days - was it really only two days? Or was it three? - and while he hadn't met all of them, he was certainly anxious.

Also, he could not forgot that Mistress Fontaine was the Azure Dragoon (though he was Not Thinking about that right now - he had many things to worry about.)

He was anxious. For them and for Ishgard. He could only imagine the political nightmare if they died here. Likely damaging relations for the  _next_ twenty years. Depriving the realm of vaunted and beloved and cherished champions.

... He was giving himself a headache.

While they were digging for the heretics around Snowcloak, it seemed a few were creeping around the Steps of Faith - using ropes no less. The Dragoons had already knocked a few into the chasm and ominous wing beats darkened the skies. Testing their defenses. Growing bolder. ... How he despised paperwork, sometimes. A great deal of the time.

“Ah, Lord Commander?” Handeloup interrupted cautiously.

His eyes flicked upwards to ensure it was just Handeloup before going back to the papers. “If it's Zephrin again, tell him I've leapt into the Sea of Clouds.”

 Handeloupe chuckled. "That won't be necessary, Ser Aymeric. We've received word from Snowcloak," 

Aymeric turned to gauge the Second Commander's expression and felt a knot of tension loosen at his undisguised satisfaction. "Shiva has fallen and all eight of the Primalsbane are present and accounted for - though, complaining of frostbite and the cold, so I am told. Lord Drillemont requests your presence at Whitebrim Front. I will handle things here,"

Handeloupe was Fury sent - he better suited to battlefield command but the respect he commanded, left Aymeric confident at least briefly leaving command in his capable hands.

"My thanks. I will set out at once,"

* * *

Lucia was fighting amusement when he arrived at Whitebrim Front. The recovered packages from the unfortunate Fortemps Caravan were already been loaded onto new wagons as well, Lord Drillemont standing in the courtyard, directing them. "I am told that their skald wants to keep the missive. They were quite moved."

"Lord Commander!" 

Aymeric turned in confusion and was confronted with a bouncing bundle of cloth in hood. "Whoops," She rolled it back, revealing a Miqo'te with brown hair, dancing green eyes and sun-browned skin. Six green dots - in two parallel downwards lines of three - were on her forehead, two more streaks under her eyes which had slitted irises. Hm... did those represent her comrades?

"That was a great letter! Stirred our hearts. You don't mind if we keep it, do you? We like mementos. Oh! I'm O'hyasru Zhassen, Luminary of the Gale. Archer, Hunter, Skald - whatever. Some call me bard but since I go charging into battle and don't sit around singing daft songs in taverns, I prefer skald. That's what we call 'em back home anyway - that's Gyr Abania."

"It is an honor to meet you," he said diplomatically as a Hyur joined her, trying to pull her away.

"She escaped. She talks a lot. My apologies."

"We're partners." She was unmoved. "This is Hydaen Miles. I do all the talking he  _refuses_ to."

He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Words are important for communication! Don't keep rolling your eyes; they will fall out!"

Hydaen's expression spoke volumes; mostly expressing his thoughts at the ridiculousness of that statement.

"O'hyasru! Hydaen!" a Roegadyn Paladin - Rhetioeyasyn, Aymeric had been introduced to - was shouting from across the yard, looking exasperated. "The caravans, if you please!" 

O'hyasru waved cheerfully as Miles tugged her away.

Lucia had evidentally given up on her taciturn manner for the day by her smile. "They are quite the characters, are they not Lord Commander?"

Aymeric gave up hiding his amusement. "Quite."

"I should have mentioned," Mistress Arshad seemed to just materialize, her red coat wrapped more securely around her person, though her arms were still bare. "We're very terrible with formalities. Shall we get out of this cold? I won't subject you to the full ridiculousness of my sisters and brothers just yet but I'm sure you'd like to hear all about Shiva."

 Mastering himself, he nodded in agreement. "That would be in order. No lasting injures?"

"No - we have good healers."

Aymeric relaxed; Shiva was slain, none of them had died - and how he envied their lack of battlefield causalities  - and he had one less worry.

"Oh - you do realize of course that O'hyasru is never letting such a heartfelt and rousing letter be forgotten." Her mismatched brown/black eyes were warm, hair tinged with frost.

"I... am not entirely sure what to make of you and yours,"

 "Good. It amuses us to confuse people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am much happier with this updated version! :) (I really liked the letter Aymeric sent before the Shiva fight, if you couldn't tell.) The letter is transcripted and edited from quest dialogue 'the Instruments of Our Deliverance'
> 
> My favorite line here? "If it's Zephrin again, tell him I've leapt into the Sea of Clouds.” :D


	5. For Peace (Quest: This War of Ours)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archbishop and his Heavensward are slain and the city in confusion and despair. But, a great white dragon swooped from the heavens to save an innocent child and it would be foolish to allow such a providential moment pass them by.
> 
> (Aymeric is Tired™, Isarette, the Luminary of the Frost is a good friend.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a sad state of affairs when I let this chapter sit in here since... like March. March 30th.
> 
> These chapters are not in any kind of order.

The end of the Dragonsong War was on the horizon and it seemed that path was more treacherous than ever. He had never felt so suffocated by his paperwork. How he envied the Warriors of Light - though they were always willing to help no one seemed willing to subject them to the hell that was negotiations and paperwork. Aymeric rubbed the bridge of his noise, feeling drowsiness weigh down his eyelids, an ache pulsing through his skull. He... just needed to rest his head... maybe his eyes...

 

The knock on the door pierced his doze and he hastily sat up, peeling a page from his cheek.

"It's Isarette." a familiar voice called.

"Please - enter."

The door always clattered when opened - the Deuxieme Azure Dragoon  entered, her blue armor announcing her station.

"A pleasure to see you again, my friend." he said standing - partly to wake himself up. "I take it you received our invitation?"

"I did." Isarette said slowly, appearing to be studying him thoughtfully and he tried to look awake and competent.

"Good, good... You of all people should be present. And what of your companions?" Keeping track of all eight rambunctious Warriors of Light was a daunting task.

Her smile was small but true. "They are quite well. But we rather thought it would be rude to overwhelm you with all of us."

"Would that I could enjoy my responsibilities as often as you seem to." he sighed, his worries weighing on his shoulders.

From the questioning furrow of her brow and tilt of her head - she worried.

"When the True Brothers of the Faith seized control of the Vault, I feared the worst." he said, choosing to put a strong front. His fingers trembled minutely, the cool fabric of his gloves unusually chilled. "Yet in adversity were we blessed with the promise of peace between Ishgard and Dravania, through Vidofnir's timely rescue of an innocent child."

Isarette's eyes fluttered closed - the dragoons had been dispatched to capture any miscreants and the open air between them and the girl-  she'd nearly had heart failure. " 'Timely' doesn't quite do it justice."

" 'Miraculous' or 'providential' might better describe the event." he agreed. "The gods themselves could not have devised a more fitting symbol of hope. Needless to say, we could scarce let such an opportunity pass us by, which is why I set about making formal arrangements for a peace conference between our peoples."

"Really? That sounds fantastic!"

It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he found himself smiling. "I am glad to find you amenable to the idea. You and yours have done more to bring us together than any, and it is only right that you attend. But, I confess, that is not the only reason I would be glad to have you there."

"Nidhogg would object."

"Indeed he does... Should he and his followers attempt to disrupt the proceedings it would ease our hearts to know the Warriors of Light are present."

"We wouldn't miss it. It's nice to see the fruits of our labor."

His wane visage eased into a smile.

"Pray understand, I have no wish to invite the wyrm's ire, but if our fractured nation is to heal─if we are to move forward as a people united─then we must do whatever is necessary to bring about lasting change!"

He visibly swayed, hand slamming against the desk.

"Aymeric!"

He took a breath, shaking it off. " 'Tis nothing, 'tis nothing." he assured but found himself pressed into his seat and poured a chilled glass from water from the pitcher.

"Thank you." he sighed, taking comfort in her looming presence, the chill cooling his hands. "Lucia cautioned me against giving vent to my passions, lest my wounds reopen."

"As did Vanava. And Suzume. And -"

"Yes. Yes." He took another drink - the two Healers of Light were not people he liked to disappoint. "It's been very busy of late."

"The Dragoons will be glad to yet to have some purpose. We've... Had some revelations of our own. And no - you don't get to hear about it - not until you're healed."

He sighed but acquiesced knowing that tone. "You've been talking to Lucia."

Her smirk filled him with a sense of doom and resignation.

"You've done much and more for us both. I know not what power bequeathed the mantel of Azure Dragoon to you but I count it as a blessing."

He dutifully took another long drink from the goblet under her stern eye.

"It has not been easy reaching out to our opponents in Ishgard," he confessed. "Many of whom sympathized with the actions of the 'True Brothers'. But in so doing, we have limited the influence of the zealots. The people are ready, my friend. This conference must go ahead!"

Isarette arched an eyebrow at him; he cleared his throat, taking a drink.

"You used to be much calmer."

He affected smile, shrugging almost apologetically. "There is much to be passionate about."

She did not seemed moved and he made a mental note to keep any eye out for the Luminescent Healers - not that he'd see them coming.

"So," she said, very obviously moving on. "Are you going to tell me where the conference is or what?"

"The conference will take place on the border of Ishgardian and Dravanian territory, in Falcon's Nest. Lucia is there seeing to the final preparations even as we speak. Pray join her at your earliest convenience - 'twould not do for the guest of honor to arrive late, after all."

"I'm of the opinion it doesn't start until the guest of honor arrives." She quipped, earning a hearty laugh. "Well, my convenience is now, anyroad." she said, making to leave. "I'll have some dinner sent up to you and you'd better eat it all."

"Oh, a drink!"

Isarette eyed him, startled and confused by the sudden declaration.

"We should make time for one." he went on hastily, embarrassed by his volume. "Once the conference is concluded, I mean. By my reckoning, 'tis long overdue."

She stared at him as if uncomprehending for a long moment - in which his smile faded but at her nod, it cautiously returned.

Her confusion melted away into a contented expression. "That sounds like something to look forward to."

 


End file.
